They said there'd be peace on Earth
by Kylen
Summary: Summary: It's the holiday season, and merry doesn't enter the conversation when Steve is called up to join a Naval Intelligence operation the week before Christmas. In a time of great conflict, there is peace – and vice versa.
1. Prologue

They said there'd be peace on Earth

By Kylen

Summary: It's the holiday season, and merry doesn't enter the conversation when Steve is called up to join a Naval Intelligence operation the week before Christmas. In a time of great conflict, there is peace – and vice versa.

The story title comes from the song "I Believe In Father Christmas," which is the inspiration for this piece. To all of our troops serving overseas and fighting in conflicts this holiday season, may peace on Earth be possible for you.

Also, I don't own them, I just write stories with them. No money-making is being had with said writing, sadly.

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><p>When Danny looked back on the evening over the next week, he remembered the conversation by the beach, and the little details that painted the picture in his mind. Those details had hooks in their claws, and they clung inside his brain tenaciously, refusing to let go and flee into the distance.<p>

Steve sitting in the weather-worn beach chair, a Longboard bottle on its arm, sweat from the bottle slowly trickling down the brown glass and dropping onto the wood – pooling on the blistered paint and then running down the length of the arm.

The sun long gone, replaced by a waning crescent moon that cast cool light on the dappled sand, the waves breaking softly into shore under an eery sky.

Steve's voice, broken and cracked – like the soul from which it came. Danny could hear the note of despair in his partner – _his friend_ – as he tried to put into words how everything had gone so wrong.

_"I don't know what to believe anymore, Danno." Danny's fingers tightened around the neck of his own Longboard. "I thought I knew him. I thought … God, Danny, I never questioned – not in anything. You don't do that in the military, and he trained me. Do you know what that means?"_

_Danny had a guess._

_"Yeah, a little."_

_"Do you know where I spent my first Christmas in the SEALs, Danny? On a training exercise in the sea off Japan. We were running a joint exercise with the Marines, and they shipped up to Camp Foster in Okinawa. Christmas Eve, we were supposed to be in the water from 10 p.m. until dawn on Christmas Day."_

_Steve paused, took a long sip of his longboard. Danny saw a few drops of condensation drop on his partner's face, but Steve didn't even flinch. After a minute of silence, his friend continued._

_"Supposed to be – me and Lewis and Buxton. Damned idiot didn't even realize what he'd done at first. We were in the bay, holed up in some outcropping of rock that barely qualified as a cave. But it was the only cover we had, and the Marines were supposed to come ashore there after we reconned. We weren't supposed to be seen, all we had to do was make sure the waters were clear of the enemy. Light weapons only, and knife work."_

_Another pause, another sip of beer. Danny didn't dare speak, didn't dare break the rarified air in which this conversation took place._

_"Joe had sent the three of us into that area to clear any traps the enemy may have set. And Lewis … he found the first one just as the thunderstorm that had been threatening all night broke open. Pulled his knife to clear the rope pull and the flash-bang attached to it. And the damned idiot didn't even think to look and see if there were any other threads, didn't even pull his glo-stick out to make sure the rainfall on the water hadn't made him miss something._

_"He cut the thread, and the whole friggin' pond exploded … water, rocks, noise, God, you couldn't even tell whether up was the sky or the water between the lightning and the rain and the explosions. And then suddenly I was under the water, no footing, and no equipment. We'd left it on beach, because, hey, what the hell is supposed to happen when you're clearing Goddamn flash-bangs in peacetime?"_

_Steve turned, and Danny felt a chill run through him as the two locked eyes. Steve had consumed as many beers as his partner had – which was to say more than a few – but in those eyes Danny saw no haze of drunkenness, just a scary clarity of purpose._

_"You think I don't screw up? That thousand-yard stare, right?" Steve shifted his gaze back to the ocean, so close now to their feet with the tide having rolled in. "Three rocks, each the size of a bowling ball, landed on my chest, pinned me to the ocean floor – three feet under the ocean, all the air knocked out of my chest. I didn't know up from down, all I knew was I needed to breathe. And then my lungs filled with water, and I choked and I -"_

_Danny reached out, letting his hand settle on Steve's forearm, but the ex-SEAL didn't react, didn't so much as flinch. All Steve did was lift his beer again, and finish the bottle with one long swallow._

_"I blacked out, and the next thing I know, I'm on my side, my chest aching like a son of a bitch while I puked on the sand. I couldn't stop, my whole body just betrayed me. And Joe's hands were on my shoulders, making sure I didn't choke, making sure I heard him talking the whole time. I don't even remember what he said, but it kept me from panicking, it actually calmed me down. I knew I was safe. My chest had started to feel like someone had sat on it, so when he put the oxygen mask on my face, I didn't even fight it._

_"I found out later that he'd been in the water within seconds of the trap being sprung, wanting – no, needing to make sure his trainees were accounted for. When he got out there, I was dead, Danny. I wasn't there. I don't remember him pulling me out of the water, or him doing CPR. I just remember puking and sucking in air while he never moved from behind me."_

_"He saved my life, Danny. I never had any reason not to trust him after that. Not until now." Steve leaned back in the chair then, still lost in whatever world his story had taken him to. "Twelve years, more missions than I can count, and I knew if I needed something, he was a phone call away. He had my back, even if it was just the theory and not the practice._

_"Now it's all changed, Danny. I'm a cop now, not a SEAL. I don't trust him – and I don't know that he trusts me. It's not the same anymore."_

_Danny swallowed, hard, and thought for a moment before saying anything, wanting the right words and not the wrong ones to find a voice._

_"Sometimes it can't be, Steven. And sometimes, that's OK, too."_

_"No." The one word was all Steve said for a long time. Then, after long minutes of silence, he finally spoke again. When he did, Danny closed his eyes against the words, wishing now more than maybe any other time in his life, that he could hit a rewind button and undo the moment._

_"I brought ME to 5-O, Danny. I was a SEAL, I was Navy Intelligence. Now – now I don't know what I am, and that scares the shit out of me. I could get a phone call tomorrow, we both know that, and get pulled back into the field, and I don't know if I can trust myself, or anyone else out there."_

Two days later, on a windy, wild Hawaiian afternoon, they walked through the doors of HQ, blank looks on their faces and an envelope in hand. Orders, ones that Steven read through once, then with veiled eyes, folded silently and stuck into a pocket. Wordlessly, Steven and Danny locked eyes again, and the words of two nights previous echoed in the silence.

_"I don't know if I can trust myself or anyone else out there."_

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><p><em>Author's note: This is a multi-chapter story that I will hopefully get posted and finished in the next week or so, given it revolves around the holiday and a holiday song. Thank you for your patience.<br>_


	2. It Just Kept On Raining

_Christmas Eve, 11:30 a.m._

The first time Danny had worked Christmas Eve after Grace was born was when his daughter was five years old. Wise beyond her years, but still a child, she had pouted when her father needed to leave his parents' home, with Grace and Rachel sitting next to the fireplace and shiny wrapping paper on presents reflecting the lights on the tree.

When he'd announced he was leaving, Grace had launched herself up from the floor and wrapped herself around her Danno's legs, and begged him not to go.

_"Daddy, why do you need to go to work?"_

_"Because the bad guys need to be caught, Monkey. They don't take Christmas Eve off like the rest of us."_

_"Well, they should."_

Danny had agreed at the time, and he agreed now. Not less than 12 hours after Steve had left – taking just enough time for a few clipped words of reassurance and an urgent discussion Danny had practically had to drag him into – HPD hauled in one Manuel Arroyo on a possession charge. There were hardly enough drugs on the guy to make a case for possession, much less distribution with intent to sell. But when the cops had found a list in Arroyo's pocket that looked like code and felt like code, well, HPD had decided it probably WAS code and dragged the man down H 5-O.

Since then, Chin had run every cipher he could think of and the best he'd been able to figure out was that it was a list of addresses and phone numbers. But short of someone giving them a Rosetta Stone to the actual code, it looked like they were at an impasse. Chin had figuratively thrown his hands up in the air about an hour ago, and then suggested that even a team of Navy cryptographers wouldn't be able to crack it.

Chin looked guilty almost immediately, but it didn't stop Kono from drawing in a harsh gasp and Lori from staring at him, a look of shocked horror on her face. It was so comically cliched that all Danny could do was run his fingers through his hair and glare at the ceiling tiles, at a loss for what to say or how to say it.

_So, Super SEAL, this is what we do without you. We muddle on, and we become some tragic soap-opera caricatures of ourselves while we try and deal._ Danny hadn't even gotten a chance to say anything. Chin fumbled through an apology, then pushed through the doors of HQ and disappeared. Kono and Lori had exchanged a look, then retreated to their respective offices. That left Danny standing at the smart table, looking at Chin's attempts at making sense of their would-be drug dealer's delivery list and wishing more than anything else his partner were here.

Bad guys didn't take the holidays off. Not in whatever war zone Steve had been dropped into, and not in Hawaii. The sudden clarity of the thought left Danny with a sour stomach, and a growing feeling of frustration. They hadn't heard anything from the ex-SEAL – or would it be just regular SEAL now, Danny mused – since he'd walked out with his military escort. None of them had expected to, but the silence had started to grate on everyone's nerves.

Danny's last words with his partner were all he had to buoy him.

_"Steven, sidebar. Please?" Danny's hands gesticulated wildly toward Steve's office, and after a moment of indecision, his partner gave him a curt nod. Then he turned to the military personnel and asked, in as polite a voice as Danny had ever heard him use, to please give him a minute and then he would be right with them._

_Danny let them acquiesce, then grabbed Steve's arm and dragged him through the door to his own office._

_"Danny, I can't-"_

_"Shut up, you jerk. I'm not asking, OK?" Danny shook his head. He'd learned his lesson months ago after mocking Steve with Operation Strawberry Fields. Steve had put up with it all, locking his jaw and looking straight ahead – never at his partner – every time Danny had broached the subject. After seeing the SEAL mission play out on the Naval base, Danny had swallowed his pride and quit asking. He knew he'd never get answers, and pissing off a man that knew probably 100 ways to kill you and hide the evidence didn't speak long for his life expectancy._

_That said, he wanted some reassurance. He wanted – no, he NEEDED to know the conversation he'd had with his partner under that moonlit sky and over too many beers was just that, a conversation intensified by too much alcohol and too little information. Danny couldn't let his partner go out that door without some reassurance that Steve knew enough to watch his ass._

_Apparently, the same thoughts had crossed Steve's mind, because he cracked a small smile. It wasn't the same kind of gung-ho, have-at-it grin he'd given Danny before he'd headed to North Korea and everyone's life had been blown to hell. But the half-grin on Steve's face said more than any words could, even before Steve opened his mouth._

_"This is what I do, Danno. It's all good." Danny watched as the man spoke, listened to the words, and reached a conclusion._

_"Just promise me one thing, Steven."_

_"What's that?"_

_"That you'll come home. Preferably in one piece."_

_Steve's smile slipped, and Danny knew he'd asked for something his partner couldn't promise. This wasn't a drug bust, or a hostage exchange. This was a Navy reservist being called up to active duty for some very good and justifiable cause, and if the cause was that damned important, then it had to be dangerous._

_He'd just asked his partner to lie to him – and Danny knew it. But after a long moment, Steve let out a sigh, and nodded._

_"I promise I'll try. That good enough?"_

And at that point in time, with a Navy escort waiting to take Steve to whatever God-forsaken hellhole they needed him in, it had been enough. But right now, with a few days of separation, the team's first case and too many hours of bad coffee and not enough sleep, Danny wanted more. To hell with the Navy and to hell with whatever craziness they'd dragged his partner into.

The bad guys needed to take some time off.

Wasn't going to happen, though. And as Danny started thinking along the lines of WWSSD – what would Super SEAL do, though it'd be a cold day in hell before Danny would ever admit he'd invented THAT acronym – he came up with an idea. A thin smile crossing his features, Danny ejected the small flash drive Chin had inserted into the smart table, and scooped it into his hands.

As he turned to walk out the doors and down to the holding cell, Chin came striding back through the double glass doors. Danny skidded to a halt to avoid running the man down, then held up the flash drive so Chin could see it.

"I don't know about you, but, well, just a thought here: I think we oughta show this to our guest down in holding." Danny clamped his hand shut around the drive. "That sound good to you?"

Chin just looked puzzled.

"But there's nothing on it, brah."

Danny's smile widened, just a little.

"He doesn't know that."

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><p>Sliding onto the lone chair in the interrogation room, straddling it rather than sitting, Danny allowed himself a grim feeling of satisfaction. <em>Steve would be proud.<em>

On the floor in front of him, Arroyo looked nothing more than like a fish out of water. Sprawled on his side, he coughed and kicked his legs out spasmodically after being dumping roughly out of the chair when Danny had stalked into the room and flipped it out from under him. With no time to prepare, Arroyo's knees had been driven right into his stomach, knocking all the air out of his chest.

After a few minutes, though, the wheezing had finally begun to diminish, leaving the man hauling air roughly into his lungs and curling into himself to protect himself from what he thought would be another physical attack.

_Not yet. We'll try something else first. _ Danny crept silently to the man's side, and crouched down next to him, thanking whatever powers there were that his knees skipped the snap, crackle and pop he got more often than not when he sunk deep into the joints. Clucking his tongue lightly, he held the small flash drive out where Arroyo could see it, flipping it over and over in his fingers.

"See this, my friend? This is what's going to send you to Halawa for the next 20 years. And that's if you're lucky and all we get you for is starting the next new distribution ring." God, it felt good to slip into the easy disguise of the bad cop, and let his emotions run wild in the pretense of an interrogation. Right now, Danny needed that rush of adrenaline, the heady feeling of walking the tightrope between in and out of control. It was, pure and simple, an emotional release for all that ailed him, and he welcomed it much like the dealer in front of him would likely welcome his next fix.

As he let the words sink in, Arroyo snorted once.

"You know nothing, _haole_." The words were short, spat out as the dealer tried to haul in the air he still didn't have in his lungs and sound like a credible threat at the same time. "Nothing. You as dim as the light bulb in the -"

_Now we go for the pain. _Danny looped his fingers around the man's greasy ponytail, and yanked hard. The man let out a yelp of pain, but above it, Danny heard Chin chuckle over by the door in appreciation. The man wasn't Steve, but he knew his way around the holding cell just as well and could appreciate Danny's methods.

"You want to finish that statement, seriously? I mean, really? Insulting the one guy in this room with the evidence in hand? The one person who might be convinced to take a look at this and NOT see the other connections it could have?" Danny let a hint of menace creep into his voice, and gave another tug on the man's hair. "Like exotic animals and back-alley sales? Or the illegal immigration? Or the – Chin, help me out here? What else did you say this could link to?"

Chin's chuckle, this time, was almost predatory.

"Well, there's that child prostitution ring that the rat at Halawa let slip last week. And that was just the start. Didn't he say something about a new underground, shipping out teenagers as human slaves bound for, where was it?"

"Middle East. Asia. I think they were talking about mining operations in -" Arroyo suddenly bucked underneath Danny's grip, trying to break free of the detective's grip.

"I got nothing to do wit dat, _haole_! I swear! All it is, is ..." The man looked up, his eyes suddenly fearful. "It's nothing. I swear."

_Finally._ Danny heaved in a breath. After two days of trying to break this asshole, they finally had made some progress. The detective managed to keep the mirth, the pure joy out of his voice. Finally they had a break, and all it took was a little bit of trickery. Why hadn't he thought of it earlier?

_Steve would've. _ Danny viciously clamped down on that thought before it gained any steam, and instead gave a good, firm tug on the man's ponytail yet again.

"Nothing? Oh, I would SO love to hear your definition of nothing, wouldn't you, Chin?" The older man voiced his assent.

"Definite-" The sound of knuckles on the door, a shaky knock, interrupted them. Danny bit back a curse. Two days, TWO DAYS worth of nothing, and finally they caught a little bit of a break and someone had the temerity to interrupt him?

Danny settled back on his heels, and let go of Arroyo. Someone was going to get Danny-ranted into next week. He nudged the dealer with his foot, pushing him away.

"I wouldn't recommend moving much. We're not going to be gone long." Just long enough to chew out Lori or Kono, whoever it was on the other side of the door. Danny levered himself on his hands, slowly stretching into an upright position. This time, both his knees cracked loudly, his right screeching at the abuse Danny had put it through. He ignored it, then grabbed Chin and motioned at the door for whoever was on the other side to open it.

As it turned out, it was Lori. She flinched slightly as Danny barely paused as he came through the door, running his fingers of the hand he _hadn't_ used on Arroyo through his hair and rolling his eyes at the blonde.

"What? I mean, seriously, what do you NEED? That's the first time he's so much as blinked, and you come in-"

"Danny, Chin … you need to come see this." For the first time, Danny actually looked at Lori's face, and saw the level of distress in her eyes. Her normally tanned skin had faded to a pasty shade of cream, and on second glance, he could see where a few stray tears had traced their way down her face.

_What the …_ And then Danny's stomach clenched in a tight note, turning first to ice and then a rolling boil as the pieces fell into place.

"Steve?"

Lori just nodded, and Danny's heart gave one hard thump and seemed to almost stop. He closed his eyes, hissed a breath out through his teeth, and gestured at the Homeland Security agent to lead the way.

_Just what the hell have you done now, Steven?_ Danny's thoughts ran wild as he and Chin rushed down the hall behind Lori, afraid of what answers he'd get when they reached their destination.

It took less than a minute for the younger woman to corral them back into the large office Five-O called home, where the large television screen on the far wall was broadcasting CNN. Danny skidded to a halt in front of the TV, seeing the words on the screen scrolling before the announcer's voice even made an impact.

_**Al Jazeera reports U.S. Military aircraft crashes in Northeast Afghanistan. Navy SEAL team on board, no word on survivors.**_

_No. Nononono._ Even as Danny started to deny what his eyes were seeing, the voice of the CNN anchor filtered into his consciousness, and Danny leaned heavily into the smart table – his hands balled into tight fists.

"Again, Al Jazeera is reporting a U.S. Military helicopter, carrying what was believed to be a team of Navy SEALs and other support staff, crashed earlier today in the Hindu Kush mountain range in Afghanistan. Right now, the Pentagon has confirmed an aircraft has indeed crashed, but will not comment how many were killed or if there are any survivors."

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><p>Author's note: I will attempt to have another chapter ready to go Dec. 26. In the meantime, Happy Holidays to all!<p> 


	3. They Sold Me a Dream of Christmas

_Author's note: Any similarities between my story and actual events that have taken place are pretty much coincidence. I'm not following the timeline of anything but my own imagination here. Also, I've made certain assumptions on how information would get to people in my story, since I don't know the actual procedure. I hope my logical assumptions might also make sense to you, and beg your forgiveness if they do not._

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><p><em>Christmas Eve, 2:30 p.m.<em>

Danny wheeled his Camaro into a parking space outside the Palace, slipped the car into park, and turned off the ignition. After the initial shock had worn off – and the news reports clearly weren't updating with any new information – Danny's brain had finally kicked back into gear, back to Detective Williams, thankyouverymuch, and 'I want answers.' He'd left Chin and Kono at the Palace in case anyone came by with something approaching information.

He wanted to let go of the steering wheel, wanted to beat on it, beat on something, ANYTHING that could withstand the frustration building in his chest. He had questions, he wanted answers – not to be sitting alone in his car trying to figure out when or if they'd ever find out what had happened to one very Super SEAL recalled to active duty.

Danny swallowed hard. He _deserved_ answers. Instead, all he could do was look across at the empty passenger seat, and wonder if he'd ever be sitting there again – with his partner behind the wheel.

_"Let's just not talk."_

_"You mean right now – or ever again?"_

_"Just ...both, OK?"_

The first time they'd ever really talked in this car had been after an another heated exchange of words, one that had escalated into Steve ratcheting Danny's un-shot arm up behind his back before letting go – and then ended with Danny's tidy right hook and the words, "You're right. I don't like you."

Would that be all he'd have left now – memories? Fleeting fragments of conversation – bits of arguments? God. Anger, fear, pain – everything Danny felt and more suddenly boiled to the surface. Seemingly of their own accord, his fists found the steering wheel and Danny started pounding – hard, focused punches.

Hitting the wheel with his knuckles. _"If you're going to be the shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy, I'd like to at least be consulted, so I know when to duck!_

Slamming the horn with the heel of his palm. _"Is everything going to become a personal mission for you?"_

Smashing the dashboard, over and over again, with his hand – relishing the pain that streaked up his wrists with every blow. _"Why are you talking – WHY ARE YOUR LIPS MOVING?"_

Fury and righteousness and loss and simple pain ran wild and unabated, fueling more hits, more punches. Danny let his emotions take control as memories flooded through his brain.

_"You can ride in the trunk if you don't like it!"_

_"You're like a devourer of dreams … you're a like a little Pac-Man in cargo pants!"_

_"Would you get down? I'm not changing the subject, put your head down!"_

Danny wanted a release – he wanted relief from this sudden, inescapable truth. Danny's fist connected solidly with the horn, and he closed his eyes as he hammered on that one spot. His eyes began to burn, tears starting to spring up and wanting to be set free.

Instead he just hammered on the horn, grunting with every single blow. Over and over again.

"Hey, Danny … Danny?"

His eyes flew open, and Danny saw Chin standing next to the car.

_Shit._ Danny, now panting with exertion, leaned back into his seat and ran his fingers through his hair. _Control._ He wanted control right now, before someone other than Chin saw him self-destructing and completely lost it right along with him.

"Brah … you OK?"

_Control. _He could do it. Danny pulled in a deep breath, and let it out with a shuddering sigh. Yeah, he could do this. He reached for the door handle, and gave Chin about a second to get out of the way before pushing the door open. Danny swung his legs out of the car, and got to his feet, squaring his shoulders as he did.

Yeah, he could do this. He _had_ to do this.

"So...yeah. I'm OK." Danny didn't wait to see if Chin would follow him; he knew the man would. "All right, let's go. I don't have much, but might as well only say it once."

H5OH5OH5OH5O

Danny walking through the double doors with Chin into HQ had roughly the effect of a flame drawing in moths. By the time he'd taken two steps, Kono had come out of her office, and by four steps, Lori joined them as well, clutching a small handful of files. The four of them made an effective impromptu party at the Smart Table.

Clearly, he'd been anticipated, so Danny skipped the preamble.

"OK, so … the governor. Well, the governor was in the middle of a cocktail party with several high-ranking officials and his family." Danny did air quotes around the "high ranking" and rolled his eyes. "He informed me, and I quote, 'It's Christmas Eve, Detective Williams. I haven't been _watching_ CNN. I've been watching my son play with his Matchbox toys.'" Danny sighed. "He said he'll get back to us. And then he asked for an update on the Arroyo case. Bastard."

Kono's eyes dropped, and Danny could see the start of tears forming there. It was Lori who spoke first, though.

"That's not surprising. State government normally isn't notified until they have confirmation of killed in action, or specific injuries and information on where the wounded have been sent." Danny couldn't believe how logical the Homeland Security agent managed to sound, and he couldn't decide whether or not it bugged the shit out of him or made him feel better.

Lori continued.

"Look, this might be good news. Really, with the number of places Steve could've been sent, we don't know he was on this particular mission – or if he was, whether he was even on that particular helicopter. Really, we don't have enough information to make any assumptions right now." She held up the folders she was holding. "I want to make some phone calls. See if Homeland Security has any information about this crash, and if the news reports are even accurate. They might not be. Al Jazeera likes to spin things sometimes."

Danny knew Lori had several good points. Unfortunately, when it came to Steve … well, Danny had begun recently to believe that the "Worst Case Scenario" books had been penned by Steve through a ghost writer – from personal experience in all situations.

He opened his mouth to say as much, but Chin jumped in before Danny could speak.

"Brah, just because you think Steve is a trouble magnet doesn't mean he is one." Danny could tell the older detective was going for calm and reasonable. "And if he is in trouble, it doesn't mean he can't handle himself."

All good points as well. But the logic side of the equation didn't even begin to compete with the emotional side – the sixth sense he'd begun to rely on less than a year after becoming a cop. That sense told him his partner had been on that helicopter, and that Steve was in trouble.

So when Danny found his voice, the words flowed out almost of their own accord – and even to his own ears, sounded suspiciously like a Danny rant.

"Handle himself? What does that even MEAN?" Danny could see the looks being exchanged, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he could just see Steve doing the air quotes around the words 'Danny rant.' He didn't care. He needed to blow off some steam or else his stomach would eat itself for lunch. "Have you seen the amount of shit he finds his way into? I mean, I could sell a Hollywood script off of what he's done in the past year! Unsanctioned trips to foreign countries, getting shanked in prison, jumping out of airplanes to rescue Navy SEALs, and that's just a start!"

Kono laid a hand on his arm, clearly trying to offer some comfort. Danny just shook it off.

"I lack the words and the paper and the time to catalog every last thing he's done, and you're telling me he can 'handle himself?' Nay, I beg to differ!"

Behind them, Danny heard the hiss of the double doors opening, and he spun around.

"Well. I take it you've heard then." Joe White stood just inside the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and a grim smile gracing his features. "I don't suppose I need to ask if you've heard anything new?"

Anger flared in Danny's gut. He would later blame his next moves on fear and despair, but right now, Danny didn't even stop to think. The next thing he knew, he had the ex-Navy SEAL pinned against the wall, one arm shoved up under his chin in a choke hold, his other hand buried in a handful of the man's polo shirt.

"You bastard!" Danny snarled. "What did you do to him? Where did you send him? Did you decide that it would be easier for him to just be the hell out of the way, so you got him recalled and sent into a war zone?" Danny's arm pushed tighter and harder against Joe's throat. "Is that your end game? Huh? Get him killed so he can't ask you anymore questions?"

Behind him, Danny could hear his team gasping with surprise, but no one made any move to stop him. And surprisingly, the least affected by it all was Joe White, whose face had gone a whiter shade of pale. Hitching in a couple of small breaths, it took a moment for him to answer.

"I had … nothing to do with this, Williams." Danny looked into his eyes, and in an instant, he realized his own anger, his own fear, were reflected there. "I just came to help. Please."

The last word sounded like a plea, and God help him, Danny couldn't help but respond to it. Slowly, he let up on the pressure, and he let Joe slide back down against the wall. The older man hunched over, heaving in strong pulls of air, so harsh that Danny almost couldn't understand him.

Almost. When the words filtered through his brain, Danny's heart slowly congealed into a block of ice.

"I don't know where he is. But knowing Steve, he was probably on that helicopter." Joe carefully levered himself back into a standing position, and now Danny could see the compassion in the man's eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

* * *

><p><em>One last note: I apologize for the delay in the update. I had to put my cat to sleep yesterday morning, and the day was (understandably) shot to hell. I hope to have the rest of the story posted by Sunday at the latest.<em>


	4. Hallelujah, Noel, Be It Heaven or Hell

_Christmas Eve, 11:30 p.m._

Danny Williams hated waiting.

He had his reasons. When he was just a kid, he'd never been able to sleep on Christmas Eve – not even after the myth of Santa Claus had been firmly debunked. And when he became a cop, having to sit at his desk and wait for DNA tests, lab tests – hell, any kind of tests – had resulted in him being labeled the "expectant father" of the force, the one who did all of the worrying.

The tag – the one of expectant father – had stuck. Even waiting the five minutes for Rachel's home pregnancy test to inform him his first child was on the way? Yeah, definitely the expectant father – followed by eight months of a pregnancy that had Rachel in the hospital twice and dangerously ill most of the time. Rachel's 22-hour labor with Grace hadn't been a high point in the Danny patience-o-meter, either.

The result, though, had been a bright-eyed, 8-pound, 15-ounce wonder that would soon define his very existence – an existence that had changed radically after nine years. The move to Hawaii had taught Danny nothing new in the patience department, either before or after being recruited to the governor's special task force.

None of it now, though, could even compete with the impatience threatening to overwhelm him at the moment. Danny knew it could be hours, days, weeks or months before they found out where Steve was – and if he'd been involved in this crash. Classified. Got it. They'd tell you, and then they'd have to kill you. Intellectually, Danny got it.

Emotionally? He couldn't wrap his brain around it. Sitting and waiting went against everything Daniel Robert Williams was. It frustrated him, it sickened him, that it was all he could do right now. Lori had run down every contact she'd had in Homeland Security, and a few she hadn't that friends had suggested she try. All they could get was confirmation that the U.S. had raised its threat level from elevated to high since the news had broken on Al Jazeera – and, as one of her contacts had snidely added, no official news out of the Pentagon probably meant there were "a lot of people shoveling hard and fast."

Joe's appearance at 5-O headquarters came after he'd taken a trip over to Naval Intelligence to speak with a few old friends – and with Wade Gutches. The former hadn't given him anything, and taken great pains to remind him of his recent "retirement." The latter had said he'd try to look into things, but that had been 10 hours ago. About the only thing that had gone right all afternoon was HPD showing up to reclaim Arroyo from lockup. When asked, Duke had said the governor had asked them to take over the case for the time being. Any other time, Danny would've been pissed, but now, he told Chin to copy the earlier interrogation to a flash drive and give it to the officer and wished Duke a happy holiday.

_All he'd be is a distraction – and not a welcome one. _Danny wanted headquarters cleared of everyone except the team right now, so they could focus on the task at hand.

That hadn't lasted long. Earlier, Rachel had brought Grace down to his office – a compromise between the intended plan of Danny having her for Christmas Eve and Rachel's desire to keep their daughter away from the task force once she'd found out her ex-husband was hard at work. But Grace had clued in remarkably fast to the situation – especially considering Stan had kept the television tuned to CNBC and the financial network had finally linked into its sister station's reports. As soon as the nine-year-old heard the words "crash" and "Navy SEALs" used in the same sentence, she had begged to be brought to her father.

Danny didn't have a choice, really. He never did when his daughter asked him for something.

"_Danno!" Grace flew through the doors of HQ, never once checking her speed. She covered the space between where Danny stood and the doors almost quicker than he could get down on her level, but he managed to be down on his knees before she crashed into him full force. Her arms went instinctively up around his neck, and she collapsed into him, sobbing._

"_Danno … please tell me Uncle Steve isn't dead. Please!" Grace practically quivered with emotions, and as he pulled her into a hug, he shot a look at his ex-wife. Eight months pregnant, she had paused at the doors rather than try to keep up with her daughter._

_Standing there, she mouthed an apology – her face study in concern and remorse. Danny could see her red eyes, and knew that Grace hadn't been the only one crying. Silently, Danny scooped her up in his arms, and waved Kono and Chin toward his ex-wife._

"_Shhh, monkey. It's OK." Right now, his daughter was his only priority. He managed to get himself upright with his daughter in his arms, his right knee straining with the effort, and then detoured not into his own office, but into his partner's. He wanted Grace not just to listen to what he had to say, but to be someplace where her Uncle Steve's presence was still palpable._

_Danny sat down in Steve's armchair and let his little girl sob against his shirt. He didn't try and stop her, just let her cry. Her nine-year-old outbursts were a lot like her eight-year-old outbursts, and her seven-year-old ones, and so on. It was easier to let her be a child and cry it out, but right about now, he couldn't chalk her emotions up to just being a kid – especially with his own eyes growing wet. It was Grace's "Uncle Steve," but Danny's partner and friend._

_Grace sniffled finally, and pulled herself away so she could look into her father's eyes._

"_Danno … he can't be dead. Right? Right?" Grace's voice trembled, and Danny struggled with the words that came next – caught between wanting to reassure his daughter and not wanting to sugarcoat the situation. And after a long moment, he found himself pulling Grace back into his arms, and laying a kiss on her head._

"_Monkey, I don't know. We just don't know."_

After a few more rounds of tears and questions, Grace had reached the end of her waterworks. Danny had then slowly explained about secret missions and how sometimes the good guys ran into bad trouble. Hell, Grace knew that just from her father's own profession – from the incident with the Sarin six months ago to the first time Danny had taken a bullet, just a day after her fifth birthday. But each and every time it had involved Danny, he could bring himself up in front of her and let Grace see for herself that everything was just fine.

Right now, he couldn't produce Steve to provide that for his daughter. That inability hurt not just him and Grace, but the whole damned team.

He'd settle for a phone call right now. Hell, just an email. Something, anything. After promising Grace that they were doing everything they could, Rachel had managed to convince the little girl that she'd sleep better in her own bed in her own house, rather than sitting around waiting for more news. Reluctantly, Grace went with Kono to wash out her eyes and clean up a bit – and Danny had shot Kono a look that he knew communicated a clear "be gentle with her."

Rachel had stood in his office door, clearly uncomfortable.

"_I'm sorry, Daniel. I didn't even know she was in the room until she started crying and screaming for her 'Uncle Steve.'" Rachel gave him a smile that was surprisingly full of compassion. "You really don't know anything?"_

"_No, we really don't." Danny sighed, and leaned back in the chair, running his fingers through his hair. "And it might be a while before we do. Hell, we've run into enough brick walls today that I'm beginning to wonder if Naval Intelligence is a contradiction of terms!"_

_Rachel crossed over to him, and laid a hand on his shoulder. Danny tried to haul in a few deep breaths, not wanting Grace to come in and see him crying. It would only serve to freak his daughter out further._

"_I'm sorry, Daniel. I truly am. I sincerely hope he's all right."_

The words still hung with Danny, even though it had been nearly two hours since both Rachel and Gracie had left him alone in his office. Outside, Kono and Chin had grown tired of the constant re-tread of the same limited information – and changed the channel. From what Danny could see, the cousins seemed to have found an animated film, one that had the two of them – and Lori from the looks of it – smiling as they turned up the volume. But judging by the dialogue Danny could hear coming in through his open door, he would be skipping it.

"_Caribou crossing?"_

_"I make this herd to be at least 100,000 … maybe even a million. It's gonna be hours till they clear this track!"_

"_A tough nut to crack!"_

God. He and Grace and Steve had made Christmas Eve plans to sit down and watch this film – an agreeable medium between Danny's preference for "It's A Wonderful Life" and Steve's personal love of "Die Hard." Danny couldn't deny that Gracie had actually seen the latter – mainly because she'd snuck out of her bedroom at age six and watched from the top of the steps as Danny and Rachel sat entranced – but after living with his own Bruce Willis for a year and a half, Danny had vetoed that suggestion out of hand.

Danny sighed and leaned back into his office chair, kicking his feet up on the desk and running a hand over his weary eyes. Funny how much could change in the space of a week – or even a day. Funny how much you could hate something enough to fight it, and then want nothing more than to share it with a friend.

_Steve, don't make me explain to my daughter why you're dead. Please._

A knock on the door interrupted Danny's introspection. He looked up to see Joe White in his doorway, a pair of Longboards his hands. He gestured to Danny with one of them, and with a feeling a 'what the hell?' he waved the former Navy Commander into his office.

Joe placed one of the beers on the desktop in front of Danny, and then offered up his own in a toast.

"To wishes and dreams – and safe passage." Danny thought about it a moment, then swung his feet off the desk and picked up the beer and clinked the neck with Joe's. Then he took a long pull of the beer, enjoying the burning sensation of the alcohol and the bubbles traveling down his throat. He let the sensation bleed off, then repeated the process before putting the bottle back on the desk.

"Thanks. I needed that." Danny used both hands to wave vaguely in the air, gesturing toward the bullpen. "Not in the mood to watch the film?"

"Not really my thing." Joe watched him intently for a few seconds, then leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees. "Kinda thought you might need to talk for a few, and … well, this isn't exactly my first rodeo."

Danny didn't doubt it for a minute, but he couldn't figure out what to say in response. For a long moment, Danny contemplated asking the man to leave, to find the courage to say the words, "I'm good" and then shoo the older man out and go join in the distraction of a Christmas movie – no matter how much he'd been looking forward to watching it with two people who weren't here.

But Joe never took his eyes off of the detective, and Danny knew any attempt to wave the man off would be seen right through. Mainly because, well, yeah, it probably wasn't Joe's first time waiting for news or, for that matter, worrying through a rough evening wondering if someone he cared about was still alive.

When Danny finally spoke, he couldn't keep the halting stutter out of his words.

"It's just … it's Christmas Eve. You'd think … I don't know, that they could've found a way to..."

"What? Stop fighting? For a holiday they don't believe in?"

Even to Danny's own ears, his sentiment sounded ridiculous. _The bad guys don't take Christmas off. _No matter how much he wanted it to happen, it wouldn't. But still...Danny needed the little flare of hope sparking in his chest. If not for the current situation, but for the future – for himself, for Grace, for his _ohana_.

So when he answered, Danny knew he sounded naïve, but he really didn't care.

"Yeah, maybe."

"It's just a day." Danny's head snapped up, anger flaring in his stomach. He opened his mouth to light into the older man when Joe held up his hands in surrender.

"I didn't mean it that way, Williams. Look." Joe leaned back in the old office chair, letting out a sigh. For a moment, Danny could see every age line on the man's face, and a weariness in Joe's eyes that the man had been trying to hide all day. "We celebrate a holiday on a given day because the calendar says we should. But if we celebrate Christmas on the 26th, or Jan. 1, does it make the sentiments any less important? Or our beliefs any less real?"

Danny looked at Joe thoughtfully, then nodded.

"Go on."

"That's it, really." Joe shrugged. "You spend enough time in the military, you learn to celebrate when you can. It doesn't matter if it's a holiday or not. Sometimes … you just gotta believe."

Danny fought the urge to roll his eyes. Clearly, someone had explained the nature of the film on outside to Joe before he'd come into the room. Or maybe belief was just something that became second nature as a Navy SEAL. Maybe the only way you conquered the idea of possibly dying each and every day on foreign soil was to acknowledge it was simply part of the equation. And maybe that thousand-yard stare he'd accused Steve of the first day they'd worked together helped his partner keep from losing his faith in a system he clearly trusted enough to keep serving.

Whatever the sentiment, the ideas were a little too deep for Danny's tired mind to accept. His mind had lost its appetite for theoretical discussions and philosophy somewhere in the last 12 hours, and he wasn't in the mood to invite said topics back into his mind.

So, instead, he swallowed hard, and asked the question most on his mind.

"You know Steve, and you know the kind of crap he's likely in the middle of. Do you think he's alive?"

In the process of swinging his feet up on the desk himself, Joe instead sat straight up in his chair, his feet thunking to ground as he shot Danny a dangerous look.

"What?" Danny couldn't tell if the ex-commander was pissed, concerned or just startled. Nor did he really care. He wanted reassurance – and the man sitting in front of him might be able to offer some.

"Do. You. Think. He. Is. Alive." Each word punctuated, clearly enunciated, Danny made sure Joe understood just what he was asking. He knew it was an impossible question, but …

Joe looked at him searchingly, a question in his eyes. When he finally answered, Danny could hear the clear note of honest truth in the man's voice.

"I don't know." Joe shrugged with one shoulder. "Like I said, he's probably there. What little I got from Gutches makes me believe they called Steve up for a specific mission, and it fits. And if he's there, in Afghanistan, with his luck lately? I'd say it's a good bet he was on that helicopter. But alive? I don't know. If anyone can get through a mess like this..."

Danny knew what was coming, and he finished the sentence for the man.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It'd be Steve." But Joe then surprised him, his eyes flashing with annoyance as he leaned forward, picked up his bottle, and took a swallow.

"Actually, I was going to say it would be a Navy SEAL." Joe gave him a look laced with sympathy – and a look of immense sadness. "Not gonna lie. I think it'll be luck at this point. Whether Steve's luck has run out or not … it's not my call."

And that was the bitch of the matter, wasn't it? Nothing they could do right now would change a damned thing. All they could do was sit.

And wait.

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: Kudos to whoever picks up what film I'm quoting from – not that I expect it to be difficult. :) Also, the final chapter is done and will be posted tomorrow. A short epilogue will follow, but I need a little time to sort my thoughts on that.<br>_


	5. The Christmas We Get, We Deserve

_Christmas Day, 2:12 a.m._

After the clock had clicked over the midnight hour, any remaining ambition – and energy – the 5-O task force had left seemed to simply disappear. Kono and Lori had seemed content to stay in the bullpen watching the film until its conclusion, but Danny and Joe had watched Chin move off after about 15 minutes and disappear into Steve's office.

Danny gestured to the door, and the older man followed him out and into Steve's office. There they found Chin stretched out on Steve's couch, an arm over his eyes with the lights still off.

"_Sorry, brah, hit a wall. Either I close my eyes for a few or my brain does it for me."_ Danny understood the sentiment, and dropped into Steve's office chair with an _"I hear ya"_ and a sigh. Joe contemplated the remaining chair for a moment, but he never got a chance to sit down. Lori and Kono came through the glass door, both looking a little sheepish.

_"Hey, are we allowed to join the boys' club?"_ Kono didn't actually wait for an answer, instead pushing Chin's feet off the arm of the couch and dropping in next to him. It was a signal of how exhausted the other detective was that all he did was raise an eyebrow – and then wrap an arm around his younger cousin with warm affection.

Joe had then placed both hands on the chair, and gave Lori a nod.

"_Ladies first."_ The Homeland Security agent smiled in gratitude and collapsed into the chair. Joe shrugged, and then picked a spot on the floor – behind Steve's desk, where Danny and he could continue talking if needed. With everyone situated in the darkness, the silence seemed natural and expected. It didn't take long for Chin and Kono to nod off, and Lori seemed to follow rather quickly.

Danny waited until he heard quiet snores coming from the blonde and then turned to the ex-Navy Commander sitting on the floor. He wouldn't give up the chair and he definitely wasn't leaving the room, but he still felt like a shitty host to have one person sleeping on the floor.

Whatever Danny's face showed, it must've given away his thoughts, because Joe smiled and then chuckled softly.

"_I'm good." _Joe levered himself onto his hands, and then into a crouch. _"This is your party, not mine. I'll go keep an eye on the fort."_ It said something about the degree of trust Joe had – in spite of the recent problems between the man and Steve – that Danny trusted him to do so. He nodded as Joe slipped quietly out the door, leaving just the 5-O team in the solitude of the early morning hours.

Danny, alone with his thoughts, tried to close his eyes and grab some sleep. They could be in this for the long haul, and Danny was slowly coming to grips with the idea of just what that meant. He'd seen men deploy before – since 9-11, it seemed like everyone he knew in the reserves had been called up. Admittedly, there were only a few friends among them, but when those friends included two fellow detectives in Newark, it'd been his job – his duty – to make sure those two families had a support system to fall back on.

Both men had served their tours and returned home. One had been a supply clerk, the other an engineer, and when they had come back, neither looked haunted – at least, not to an abnormal degree. Danny had taken their reticence about their time in a war zone as a warning of sorts – a "don't ask and we won't tell" of a different kind. He had to respect it, even if it frustrated the hell out of him not knowing what they'd been through.

But what had hit home most with Danny were the long months they were gone and the times of infrequent communication. Neither had been gone over the holidays and neither had gotten into any serious trouble so far as Danny knew – but letters were scarce, as were phone calls. One of the two women had dealt with it by flirting with every member of the squad who showed up to check in with her and the man's five-year-old son. Nothing had come of it, and Danny could appreciate the loneliness exhibited, even if he didn't agree with it at the time.

The other wife had withdrawn, slowly but surely, into a state where she didn't want to see anyone from the department, much less interact with them. The couple had no children, and Theresa King had made it very clear that interference – interference, dammit, not the offer of help or support, but interference – not only wasn't wanted, but not needed either.

When Sam King had returned from his tour, his wife had greeted him with divorce papers. Somehow, Danny hadn't been surprised. He'd watched King slip into withdrawal of his own, and Danny couldn't decide whether it sadness he felt over their breakup, or anger at the lack of communication between the two. They had spoken through lawyers, and as far as Danny could tell, neither had harbored any ill will toward the other.

Danny only wished his own divorce had gone quite as smoothly. Now, though, he could at least appreciate the toll waiting took on those who could only stand on the sidelines and do just that.

_They also serve who only stand and wait. _Danny didn't know where the quote came from; he'd heard it from time to time, and he knew he'd seen it in some childhood movie – quoted by a floating robot who seemed to have more personality than anyone else in the film. The quote had stuck with him, even if it took him years before he understood it.

Where was Steve on this dark, lonely night? Was he holed up in some bunker, awaiting news on a task force he had provided intelligence to, but not traveled with? Was he dead, unable to think or feel or contemplate what his passing would do to others? Was he lost in a mountain range known for its brutality and horror? Was he even out of the country yet, perhaps training with a SEAL team at some remote and secret location?

All of those possibilities and more kept Danny Williams from being able to seek some solace in sleep. Instead, his eyes would open seemingly of their own accord every so often, just to chart the passage of time on the clock hanging on Steve's wall. It moved damnably slow, in small sections of minutes that seemed to grow slower the more tired Danny got.

Just as he closed his eyes again, Danny heard Joe get to his feet out in the bullpen and shout a greeting to someone. _Oh, hell, what now? _Danny's brain got ahead of his body, and his feet tangled hopelessly in the phone cord on the desk – nearly sending him sprawling as he tried to get quickly to his feet.

Before he got himself situated, Wade Gutches strode into the Steve's office without even waiting for an invitation, a laptop tucked under his arm and a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Evening, all." Danny had finally managed to get to his feet, giving the older man a tired glare, but with the exception of Joe, everyone else had been sound asleep when the Naval captain had come in. Lori and Kono both jumped a little, and Kono's elbow managed to fly into Chin's stomach as she moved. The Hawaiian man huffed, the wind knocked out of him by the young woman.

"What the hell-" Danny didn't even get to finish the sentence.

"Why don't you guys come out here and show me how to get this machine hooked up to your equipment?" Gutches' grin hadn't slipped, not even a fraction, and for the first time in 12 hours, Danny felt a flare of hope. Could the SEAL trainer have found something other than a dead end? If he had, Danny would rate it as the best Christmas present of his life.

Chin clearly bought into the shift in mood, and gave Gutches a push out of Steve's office as he went to the Smart Table. Danny, the rest of the 5-0 team and Joe followed suit, nearly tripping over one another in their eagerness.

By the time they all reached the table, Chin had tapped in a few commands, and he and Gutches were conversing in tech-speak.

"Secure sat link?"

"Yeah. I've got an encryption code that I need to-"

"Key it in there. Then let the two servers-"

"Got it. Proxy's resolving itself, annnddd...there we go."

Gutches pointed to the digital screen on the wall as Chin swiped his fingers across the Smart Table to send whatever it was the two had pulled up onto the larger screen. For a moment, Danny could see nothing but static, but after a few seconds, the picture began to resolve itself into a video feed.

And after the last of the fuzz cleared out, that video feed showed Steve.

"_Mele Kalikimaka_, guys."

In no uncertain terms, Steve looked like shit. There were dark rings under his eyes, and whatever skin wasn't cover in dirt was a pale tan that looked sickly. But what drew most of Danny's attention was the fact Steve wasn't wearing a shirt – and his entire right shoulder and part of his right side was either taped or covered with bandages. A sling secured his right arm to his chest, and Danny could see bruises on almost every part of Steve's skin that was visible.

Danny couldn't help it. After being up for close to 24 hours with too much worry and bad coffee, it was too much. His shoulders drooped, and he leaned heavily into the Smart Table with his hands as he tried desperately to hold back the tears. Beside him, he heard the two cousins start laughing with joy, and Lori let out a hiccup that suspiciously seemed to be hiding a sob.

But it was Joe who spoke first.

"You all right, son?" The former lieutenant commander had slipped back into the mode of commander and subordinate, a role that he and Steve had played since Danny had first met the man. To no surprise, Steve slipped into the same familiar scene.

"Caught a bullet in my shoulder, bruised my tailbone. Nothing really to write home about, sir."

The matter-of-fact tone in Steve's voice caused Danny to snap his head up. After 12 hours of craziness and uncertainty, Steve's sense of calm was just too much. This, THIS he could deal with.

"You JERK. Nothing to write HOME ABOUT?"

Steve cracked half a smile, not a full one, and Danny knew immediately that at least part of the man's response had been the usual military bullshit – the expected answer to reassure and not incite panic. But Danny could tell when just that corner of Steve's mouth quirked up, that his partner was in pain.

"Is that..." Steve coughed, and Danny saw the smile slip and turn into a grimace. "Is that concern I see, Danno?"

Danny's jaw dropped. Oh, Super SEAL was SO not getting a chance to get away with that.

"You ...YOU … you do NOT get to ask that question after the last 12 hours of hell you've put us through!"

"Sorry, Danno. Best I could do." Steve actually had the gall to look a little sheepish, and Danny sensed the apology was, in fact, genuine. Danny felt his emotions slip back under his control – a strong surge of relief quelling any remaining anger and fear. He couldn't help but look away for a moment, knowing that his eyes were getting dangerously close to leaking a few tears.

When he looked back at the screen, he could see understanding in Steve's eyes. Danny wanted to ask a million questions – where Steve was, had the new reports been accurate, how he'd been shot and just how the HELL he'd ended up with a bruised tailbone of all things. He also knew if he started firing questions at his partner, all he'd get was some version of "I will neither confirm nor deny" – not only because Steve wouldn't want to talk, but given the current situation, he couldn't tell them anything.

So Danny went with the soft approach – something he hoped would get them a little bit of the information they all needed right now.

"You, uh, able to tell us anything? I know classified and all that, but...hey, anything'd be good right about now."

This time, Steve's smile spread across his face.

"I should be home in about a week." The news set off another brief round of celebration, and Danny could feel a smile reaching high on his own face. Steve gestured to his sling with his good hand, and went on. "Not exactly going to be much help here, and what they needed me for … well, it's done. We'll debrief, then I'll be back home."

Danny nodded, unable to speak. His throat had closed up with the emotion of the moment, and judging by the shouts of joy from Kono and Lori – and the smiles he saw on Chin and Joe's face – he wasn't alone.

Another voice mumbled off camera, and Steve looked at someone the team couldn't see. After a moment, he nodded, and then turned back to the camera.

"Guys, they need me to clear the channel. I gotta go." The whole conversation had taken, what, two minutes? And now it was almost over. It wasn't enough for Danny – and yet, in some ways, it was even more than he could've asked for.

He heard Joe offer a "safe travels, son," and "please take care of yourself" come from Lori. The two cousins simply said "Aloha," leaving Danny with the final words. After taking a moment, he realized he had the perfect comment.

"They also serve who only stand and wait. Get your ass back here, OK?" Steve chuckled, then nodded.

"Will do. Maholo, guys."

And then, with another burst of static, Steve was gone.

* * *

><p><em><em>Author's note: Well, there we are, the final chapter. I intend for there to be an epilogue to this, just not entirely sure how it's going to go yet. I also must thank Elysynn – not only for being the world's best beta-reader, but a good friend through everything. Without her, nothing I'm doing in 5-O would've seen the light of day. Thanks for the boost of confidence when I need it.<em>_

_Author's note redux: If anyone can tell me who the floating robot is, I'll be impressed._


	6. Let Your Road Be Clear

_Author's note: Well, here we are at the finish. I wanted to take a moment up top to thank everyone for their generous reviews and support of this story. What started as a simple scene in my head took flight, and, well, it's been a terrific ride for my first multi-chapter finished fic in years. I am blessed in my friends - and in Elysynn, who helped make sure this story not only got started, but finished. Thank you, my friend._

* * *

><p><em>Two weeks later, 3:48 a.m.<em>

It's been two weeks, and Steve still can't shake the feeling that he's freezing.

Even though it's unseasonably warm for January in Honolulu – and God, does Danny ever have the words to offer up for that situation – Steve can't seem to find "warm" at night. He's fine when he goes to bed at night, but inevitably, after round whatever it is of the recurring nightmare that has plagued him since leaving what he calls 'The Stan' and what everyone else calls 'Afghanistan' … well, he just can't get warm.

The mountains of Hindu Kush are cold, especially in December and especially at night.

"_Yankee Echo, do you copy?"_

_"We copy. Are we go for a drop?"_

_"Roger that. Begin your drop."_

He can still hear the crackle of static on the radio, and feel the wind cutting through the Black Hawk, both its cargo doors open to the wind and the light snow as Steve and the other Naval Intelligence officer – another former SEAL – prepare to rope into the area.

"_Yankee Echo! Yankee Echo! We have hostiles on the ground, and they are firing! Repeat, we are taking fire!"_

He still feels the wind, biting through his combat gear – the gooseflesh springing up in reaction to both the cold and the adrenaline. And when he wakes from reliving the botched mission in his dreams, the cold may be imagined, but it's no less real than it was two weeks ago.

Botched. Only in the strictest terms – in the ones Steve uses to define what happened.

So Steve pulls himself up into a sitting position, and shivers in the late-night solitude, feeling the gentle breeze from the open window kick up gooseflesh on his bare skin – just like he has for the past two weeks. Some nights are better than others, and tonight is one of those nights. He seems to have awoken without making any noise, at least as far as he can tell. His main barometer? Danny, who moved back into the house per Steve's standing request – that his partner stay in the house if (or, really as it turned out, when) Steve got called up to active duty. Someone needed to be in the house, and it just made sense for it to be Danny – Danny who had lived in a shithole of an apartment when he first asked and now resided wherever he seemed to land on a given week.

Danny stayed at first because Steve had gone – and then because Steve had returned, his arm in a sling and his ribs (four broken, two cracked and one painfully dislocated) singing a symphony and his tailbone cracked (not bruised as they first thought) and damned if Steve didn't need someone around for a few days. From there, Steve sensed Danny needed someplace to stay, and that someplace happened to be where he could reassure himself that his partner still inhabited the land of the living.

Now … Danny should be sound asleep on the couch. If Steve had shouted in his sleep or woken with any kind of noise, his partner would be at the door. The first time that happened – Steve's first night home, dammit, and how fucked up was that – Steve had still been half-asleep, sitting in bed, panting and shivering and wondering what the hell had just happened. It took less than 10 seconds for Danny to rumble up the stairs, and arrive in the doorway of Steve's bedroom, gun drawn and his finger on the trigger.

When Danny finally realized that he and Steve were the only people in the house, he'd thumbed the safety back on the weapon and leaned back against the doorframe – his gaze firmly fixed on Steve, who could read the questions in his partner's eyes once he'd gotten a couple of deep breaths and a little bit of his composure back.

"_I'm good, Danno." _That was all he'd said and Danny – the man who used more words in an hour than the entire team seemed to use in a day – withdrew without saying anything. Steve could see the concern in his partner's eyes, and could see Danny fighting not to ask any number of things that he could've easily voiced. Instead, for once, the detective stayed silent, choosing to simply nod and leave.

As far as Steve had been able to tell, he's had a nightmare – variations on a theme, all ending with sweat and chills and the inability to feel any warmth – every night since. Apparently, though, only three or four times has he actually screamed, because Danny only comes up if he yells. Each time, Danny looks like he wants to ask, and each time, he withdraws as soon as he confirms his partner is, in fact, still breathing and unharmed physically.

Steve hasn't decided whether to laugh or cry that Danny still brings the weapon with him each time.

He hasn't slept the night through since he returned, and Steve knows he needs to find a way to cope with it all. It's not the first time a mission has been FUBAR – and it's not the first time Steve's been hurt as a result. Time normally gets him past the worst of it; it has in the past. But this time is different, and not because he came a little too close to dying.

"_I don't need to kill you. I just need to leave you here, and you die. All alone in the dark."_

A shiver builds in his body, and Steve decides he's had enough of sleep at the moment. It takes him less than five seconds to pull a t-shirt over his head and head for the bedroom door. Another five seconds and he is down the stairs and into the living room. He can see Danny buried under the blanket on the couch, and by some miracle of God, the television is actually off. Steve's just about to disappear into the kitchen and out the back door when the human-shaped lump on the couch moves.

"You know, correct me if I'm wrong..." And Steve stops, because the voice is coming from underneath the blanket where Danny is evidently not asleep after all. And his partner is clearly working an angle, because he pauses for effect before continuing.

"Like I said, correct me if I'm wrong, but getting some rest does actually involve sleeping at some point, right? And by sleeping, I don't mean waking up with nightmares every night and heading outside in search of whatever peace you can find listening to the surf, because that's just wrong."

_Shit._ That shouldn't have made sense, but in the way only Danny can, Steve actually manages to follow where his partner was going with that run-on sentence. And because Steve can follow that, he knows he's not going to be able to get away with glossing over this with an _"I'm good"_ and _"put your headphones back on, Danno."_

Still, he wants to try – if not for his own sake, for Danny's, because, really, he doesn't want to do this. Not now at 4 a.m., and probably not ever.

"It's not a big deal." Steve's lying through his teeth, and yeah, he feels a little guilty about that, but … this isn't Danny's problem. It's his. "Just couldn't sleep."

"'Just couldn't sleep?' Wanna try that again, you jerk? You haven't slept in the last two weeks." Steve leans back against the wall, letting out a slow sigh as Danny peels the blanket away from his face, showing that he's wide awake and definitely enough on the ball to see past whatever bullshit Steve is going to offer.

And that's the thing, isn't it? The one thing Steve's always valued about his partner: his fresh eyes and the ability to cut through whatever walls Steve puts up on a regular basis. Danny is the the emotion, the outlet – the expression of everything Steve wants to hide. And he won't back down, not ever.

So Steve looks his partner in the eyes, letting him see the eye roll – and the exhaustion Steve's been trying to hide. Steve wants to say something, but he can't think of the words. Maybe he doesn't need to. Danny is quick on the uptake – always has been – and it's pretty damned clear that for all Steve has been trying to hide his emotions and his terrors, he hasn't doesn't the job worth a damn.

"You could try talking to me, you know."

This Steve can try to handle. His answer is simple, flavored with the careful neutrality he's always offered when it comes to his SEAL background.

"I can't, Danny. I can't tell you-"

"Woh, woh, woh, I'm not saying I need to hear the classified stuff." Danny swings his legs off the couch, levering himself into a sitting position. "I get it, actually, by now. I know that seems like an odd concept, me finally getting something, but I do. I'm not asking for details."

Steve knows Danny is telling him the truth. And Danny is offering him an opening – not to tell him everything, but to tell him what he can so that Danny can help.

"You want to know what happened to me." Steve doesn't phrase it as a question, and Danny doesn't take it as one. His partner contemplates that, then nods.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Danny plaits his hands together, intertwining his fingers and then leaning his chin into them. "Because you might be Superman and Navy SEAL and our fearless leader all rolled into one, but you're also human. And you're scaring me, Steve, and I don't know about you, but this Jersey guy has been scared too much lately."

Faced with that … Steve knows that the news of the helicopter crash broke in the States. Hell, it was the reason he called in a favor with the Marines and got the secure sat link set up so he could make a quick call home. Five-O – and Danny in particular – have wormed past his defenses and reminded him that, yes, people do care about him. It's been proven time and again in the past year and a half, and Steve couldn't leave them worrying and waiting when there was something he could actually DO.

And he can't leave his partner sitting here with a million questions and no answers. Not when Danny already can guess at some of it and maybe more than that. So Steve nods, and gestures toward the back door.

"Fine. Let's go outside, though." After a moment, Danny nods – then pushes his hands apart and slowly creaks up into a standing position. He then points toward the kitchen, and one side of his mouth cracks upward into a smile.

"Don't forget the beers."

H5OH5OH5OH5OH5OH5OH5OH5O

It doesn't take long to settle into the two weather-worn beach chairs at the ocean's edge, the almost-full moon illuminating the strip of sand and the glassy water enough so both he and Danny can easily find their way. When they both sit and stretch out in the early-morning calm, Steve finds himself thinking back to the last time he said out here with his partner.

"_Now – now I don't know what I am, and that scares the shit out of me."_

God, has it only been three weeks? It has – and yet, it seems something like a lifetime as well. Steve has returned, but the slide back into civilian life seems jilted, extreme – maybe because he came so very close to not making it back, and maybe just because civilian life offers its own challenges and frustrations.

And its own set of fears. He's seen it reflected in Danny's eyes each time the detective has raced to his aid in the last few weeks – on the job, at home at night, every time their _ohana_ has been threatened in ways both obscenely normal by now, and yet, so fucked up as to find new and inventive ways to scare them all with reminders of how dangerous their job truly is.

Steve remembers now he is a SEAL. Two weeks overseas – and one blown mission – were enough to remind him of his roots and his training. When he came back, though, he slipped back into being a cop and Steve McGarrett. He still needs to know what or who or even HOW Shelburne is, and Joe is still disturbingly tight-lipped. However … it might matter just a little less now, with friends and life and living surrounding him at almost every turn.

Even at four in the morning, when by rights said friends should be sound asleep and not worrying about one crazy-ass Super SEAL. Steve knows that nickname by now, and after the stunts of the last few months, he supposes he's earned it. Letting out a sigh, he takes a long pull from the bottle, letting the carbonated alcohol slip down his throat with a warm rush.

"So..." Danny's inquiry is cool and collected – Steve would go so far as to say patient if he didn't know how badly his partner wants some idea of what happened. A clue into his psyche, if Danny would choose to go with the big words in his vocabulary.

So … Steve will try. He keeps his eyes firmly locked on the ocean, though, and he can tell from the lack of reaction from his partner that Danny is granting him that same respect.

"You know I can't tell you details."

"I don't need them, Steven."

"You probably got a good idea from the news feeds. For a change, it was pretty accurate."

"Yeah, I gathered that."

"You sure you want to -"

"Jesus, McGarrett! Just spill already. I don't know about you, but it's a school night and beauty sleep aside, 6 a.m. is gonna come awfully early." Steve doesn't look at his partner, though, and finally Danny sighs – just once, and loudly, and Steve hears the exhaustion there because Danny makes no effort to hide his worry, ever.

"I can't keep doing this – and neither can you. Maybe it's time."

With that, Steve knows it is exactly that.

"Yeah."

And once the words begin to flow, there really isn't much stopping McGarrett from telling what he can of the operation – no details on the who and the how and why – but at least telling his partner what went wrong.

The tell-tale **PING** of bullets hitting the side of the helicopter.

Of a bullet ripping through Steve's shoulder – right under his right arm, instantly loosening his grip on the fast rope, sending him plummeting 25 feet to ground. Of the pain – and the scary, numbing NOTHINGNESS that followed as he landed on the ground ass-end first and blacked out when every nerve ending seemed to cry out at once.

Of coming around in a haze of pain and stunning warmth and volatile noise as the Black Hawk crashed into a rolling spire of rock and exploded, leaving Steve with a panicky sense of being all alone in the night with no backup and no way out and maybe no one to ever find him before he died of blood loss and shock – and a sudden awareness that, after two years of life in Hawaii, he's really not OK with that idea like he used to be.

Of a 17-year-old terrorist picking his way around the rocks, his hands shaking as he leveled his Cherkashin assault rifle on his enemy and spat out invectives – and a threat.

"_All alone in the dark."_

And then the sudden flash of a handgun from behind the youngster, as the other man who had been descending with Steve shot down the teenager before he could actually make the choice to put a bullet in the injured SEAL. Of waiting for rescue – and then hearing on the trip back that the second insertion team had found the target and eliminated a man Steve had spent part of his previous six years chasing along with Victor and Anton Hesse.

Steve stops there, though, leaving it for Danny to digest and process. He knows it's been rough on his friend – hell, on his entire task force – these past few weeks, but what he just spilled shouldn't ever have to be relived by another human being. It had to come out, but sometimes, listening to what happened is even worse than living it, and Steve wonders just how Danny will react. Only the mild muting of his emotions from the alcohol keeps Steve from voicing these worries. He is still scared, though – of not just his admission, but what his partner will make of it, and him.

For several long minutes, there is nothing but silence. When Steve swigs the last of the beer, he finally has the courage to look across at Danny.

Only to find his partner staring back at him with a steady gaze and an understanding half-smile. Slowly, Danny extends his fist for what he clearly intends to be a fist-bump. Confused but agreeable, Steve extends his hand, and the two brush knuckles.

Danny's smile turns to full wattage, and for the first time in three weeks, Steve feels warm as his partner speaks the only words Steve needs to hear.

"I've got your back now, Steven. I've got your back."

* * *

><p><em>Finis.<em>


End file.
